A Touch of the Surreal
by puregenius
Summary: HermioneSeverus. Four days till graduation. Post-Voldermort Defeat. A big wide world. New ideas. Freedom.


**Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter or its trademarked characters and everything else. I like to play with the stories while waiting for JK to write a new one. Forgive me any infringement on copyright, I think we all know I'm making no money from this.**

**Note: This is the first time I'll have posted in a long time. Please keep in mind I have no Beta, have limited time and hate editing. Plus I've never actually posted any of my Harry Potter stuff. Here we go….**

It had not occurred to her before how quiet the castle got in the middle of the night. Past experiences of the same had seemed notably noisy, her heartbeat and breathing erratic, would she be caught. Now in the final days of her seventh year, the Dark Lord defeated and eighteen years old – finally an adult, the castle just seemed… quiet. It was a bit lack lustre by comparison but peace was something Hermione had not felt since before a time of Hogwarts and magic and evil and everything that was important to her, bar her parents.

Trelawney's room once the bane of many a students' existence served as a fortress of solitude to Hermione's calmer self. Away from the instinct of hunting books and staying ahead, staying alive, in this wizarding world. Away from Harry and Ron, no matter how much she loved them. Away from McGonagall and her critically approving eye, and maybe even away from Dumbledore's omnipotence. In four days she would be a free agent, the rest of her life to do with as she wished, options galore, no limits, no rules, no more teachers and textbooks. Already she felt herself floundering and she was terrified. Staring out into the labyrinth of the forbidden forest and night sky beyond the world looked so big and big ideas, big books and big hair aside she felt so very small.

Harry and Ginny already had plans she knew. The summer would bring with it a trip around Europe, backpacking, and a place to stay in every country. That was one of the benefits of the great debt the wizarding world owed this young man no one would deny him this. She smiled, a true brilliant smile at the happiness that would be afforded her friend who so very much deserved this, and Ginny by his side. Despite their tentative relationship, Hermione knew, there, was a match to last a lifetime. She wouldn't be surprised if Ginny's plans for her own graduation summer the following year involved a wedding.

And Ron, dear Ron and his not so sweet temper but better humour. His voracious Quidditch studies had finally paid off, the dividend greater than any he could have hoped. A rookie position with the Chudley Cannons, only eighteen and his greatest wish had been fulfilled. What else would they do with their lives; it seemed to Hermione they had packed the excitement, fright, danger and joy into their first eighteen years, what was there to do with the scores of years to come. If Hermione looked at herself honestly, and here was the place to do it, she didn't, no, had never felt that she would make it this far, this far so blessedly unharmed and alive. Despite her studies and constant strive for perfection she had thought perhaps the NEWTS would be it. Beyond that was a land over mountains never to be surmounted, a vision she could not even imagine. And yet here she was at the summit. And she had the very awful feeling she would go plummeting down the other side of it.

A noise at the door alerted her first to the presence of someone entering the musty tower room. A wafting hint of jasmine and pine needles, Professor Snape.

"Evening Professor", she paused, but his footsteps did not falter. What had she thought, this man behind her, so courageous in his unfailing service to the good and his deception to the dark would be thrown by the knowingness of a girl half his age. Hardly.

In her defence any other professor would have halted at her unerring intuition. A finely tuned sense of smell was precious in a world of potions, particularly for a good student, and after all, she was the best. A self-deprecating smirk graced her face.

"Do not smirk Miss Granger, it does not suit you", here it was her turn to falter.

"I hardly know myself. Why should you of all people say it does not suit me", she was forthwith galled at her own impudence. Shutting her eyes in preparation for the deduction of points and detention that would surely follow such an outburst she waited.

Silence.

She cracked an eyelid. Silence. Then footsteps moving closer, right behind her now and then he was next to her.

"Touché, Miss Granger".

Needless to say she was flabbergasted at this response and stood now openly staring at him as though he were a new and confounding creature in Hagrid's care.

"Though I can't say that open mouth gawking could be presumed to be part of your personal repertoire. Although perhaps…" he purred.

Here she was not quite certain, but a tiny smirk of his own seemed to appear fleetingly and then just as quickly disappear. And yet she continued to stare, no open mouth now. What a shame! Her inner mind called.

Mind. Gutter. Out.

Remembering briefly that it was Professor Snape before her. Professor.

Four more days. Her mind bitterly betrayed once more.

Dear God where had these thoughts come from, surely they had not been there before. Her eyes alighted with panic, flicking towards the door. Stupid graduation, stupid life, makes everything seem a possibility, apparently that extended to the temptation to open mouthedly tonguing your almost not-Professor. Stop. Now.

But oh, that tongue, that makes **that** voice.

The man beside her appeared to be fighting a smile. It was hard to tell, she had almost no basis for comparison but indeed his cheek did appear to be twitching in a somewhat irregular manner.

Her heart stopped. Legilimens. He wouldn't. Dear God, he couldn't. But he could. Was he that cheap, a penny for her thoughts was too much! Cheap bastard. Mental hysteria took over as he turned to face her.

"Language Miss Granger". It was then that words failed her, both mind and mouth.

"And before you claim invasion of your cognitive space let me just say your thoughts are practically radiating around this room. I could but miss them… although in this case they proved quite interesting". And there was that smirk again. So he hadn't managed the smile yet. Or simply didn't want to use it.

Smart ass, frigging bastard. I can't even begin…

"You seem to have made and adequate start". He responded passively, amusement still lacing his voice.

"Stop it!"

He tittered with laughter, if Snape's can titter. That was it, invading her mind, (so what if she was apparently "broadcasting") her calm place, mocking her and then having the nerve to laugh at her!

"Legilimens", it was a whispered breath. And then there he was. Mirth, fuzzy around the edges, frizzy edges, that was her hair. And then, and then he was there, she was there, they were there and his mouth was upon hers and soft curves embraced him as they moved in an embrace. The sweetness of her mouth, but she could feel it, see herself.

And then he repelled her out.

Returning to her own eyes and mind she stepped back startled. Those were not my thoughts. She stared at him shocked, and perhaps she admitted unwillingly, a little aroused.

He smirked again. A thought entered her head as though he had physically thrown it to her.

You started it.

She rolled her eyes at this, oh how very childish. How would he take being compared to Ron, she mused.

Instantly his eyes darkened. Okay, maybe not so well. It occurred to her suddenly that he hadn't repelled her, he could have blocked her, thrown her from his mind instantaneously, yet he had let her see that very private image.

"Miss Granger", she startled a little at her name, "I think it prudent I inform you I am now blocking your thoughts from my mind. You may be at ease."

Like hell. Yes, her Professor with whom she had had a limited and generously put, tenuous acquaintance with over the last seven years had just seen her most personal and random fantasy involving himself and she was to be at ease. Like hell. Her expression must have said as much, for he continued.

"Really Granger, don't be so childish, it above all things suits you least."

And there she had it. He saw her as an adult. This man who had taught her for seven years, saw her as an adult. A woman ready to enter the world, ready to traverse the summit and decline, a feat, which she herself had not accomplished… perhaps, not until now.

Her first instinct was to be annoyed. Why did he have all the right answers. No matter how much he aggravated, frustrated, appalled her, he was unceasingly right. No wonder the greatest mistake of his life had forced such extreme penitence.

"Professor".

"Snape if you must".

On her inquiring look, "Hermione, you have had your last "torture session" with myself in this "school" ", he looked around, as though appalled at invisible students, "on these terms alone and then in consideration of the particular context", meaningful inclination of the head, "I believe Snape or perhaps", he almost appeared to halt, "Severus, is best".

He was offering so much, the situation was surreal, hell, why not dive in yourself when the water is muddying with embarrassment. No rules remember. This is life.

She moved forward at first with determination and then at the last minute closed in on him with trepidation, stretching upwards, it was up to him now. And then, there it was, that slight inclination of the head and his lips were upon hers and it was surreal and bizarre, her ex-Professor, a thirty something year old man, a dark potions master, a spy, Snape. And it was perfect.

**Let me know what you think. Do you want a follow up? Get back to me, I'll see what I can do. Ciao. **


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